Murphy's Law
by firespaws
Summary: "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." A collection of Hurt/Limp/Sick/Angsty/Sam one shots with touches of Awesome/Caring/BigBrother/Dean and Woried/Protective/John.


**A/N:**

To all of my readers of Rebirthing:

No, I have not abandoned that story! I've just hit a major roadblock and am having a crap-load of trouble writing it right now :( My main problem is my lack of inspiration. My muse is just refusing to work with me on that story. He's been demanding some Hurt/Sam for awhile now, so, in an attempt to appease him, I've started this collection of one shots. Hopefully writing some one shots will inspire me again so I can get back to writing that story!

The chapters in this story will not be related to each other in any way. This is a collection of Hurt/Limp/Emotionally Distressed/Angsty/Sam one shots that I hope all Sammy fans will enjoy :)

How often I update will really be up to you guys. I'm looking for prompts! So if there's any kind of situation you want to read, leave me a review and I will do my best to fill your request to the best of my abilities :)

Well, I hope you enjoy the first one shot! This is for one of my friends, who desperately wanted to see some feverish/delirious Sam. Hope you like it!

This first one shot is set sometime during season 5 :))

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural :'(

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**Murphy's Law**

Chapter 1: Fever

Ok, so trudging through the woods in the pouring rain for a little over six hours trailing a black dog was probably not the best idea, and Dean was willing to admit that. Had he known that Sam had been developing a cold over the past couple of days, he would have found them some place warm and dry to stay while waiting out the storm. No matter how angry Dean was at his brother, he would never purposely cause him any harm. Just how Sam had gotten sick without Dean knowing was beyond him. It even made Dean all the angrier that Sam hadn't said anything about it. But, even as his anger grew, guilt set in. Dean should have known. He was Sam's big brother and it was his job to take care of him, no matter how infuriating, hard-headed, and temperamental he had become. No matter what mistakes he had made. Dean's job was to keep Sam safe, and he had failed.

Dean laid a cool washcloth over his brother's forehead, frowning down on flushed cheeks and a mop of sweaty hair. Sam moaned and shivered, but didn't wake. Dean sighed and retrieved the thermometer from the bedside table. He carefully slipped it under his brother's tongue and waited.

"104°," Dean murmured, "Dammit Sam, you're burning up."

He flipped the washcloth over to the cooler side, worry beginning to set in. Sam had seemed fine, if only more tired than usual, when they had stumbled back into their motel room the previous night, drenched to the bone and dripping onto the faded carpet. It was only when Dean woke up and was unable to rouse his brother that he knew something was wrong. Sam had had a temperature of 101° that morning and now it seemed to be climbing. And, to make matters all the worse, Sam had yet to regain consciousness.

Dean absentmindedly carded his fingers through Sam's sweat-soaked hair as the younger man whimpered, a soothing habit Dean had picked up when Sam had been sick as a child. He pulled the covers higher over Sam's body, tucking them under his chin as Sam continued to shiver.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said, shaking him gently, "Come on, you've gotta wake up for me."

Sam just groaned, his eyes remaining closed.

"Sam. Sammy!" Dean patted his brother's cheek and was rewarded when a pair of glassy hazel eyes fluttered open.

"D'n?" Sam slurred, "Wha' 'appen'd?"

"You've got a fever, Sam," Dean told him.

"Hot," Sam whimpered.

"I know kiddo," Dean said, "Now, I need you to keep your eyes open for me ok? I'm gonna go get you some Tylenol."

"'m tired."

"Just another minute or two," Dean promised, readjusting the washcloth before standing and walking over to his duffle. He was back by Sam's side about a minute later, two white pills and a glass of water in his hands. He frowned when he noticed that Sam's eyes were closed once again.

"Dammit, Sam," Dean muttered, placing the water and pills on the bedside counter and feeling his brother's forehead. His frown deepened when he realized that Sam felt even hotter than before. He quickly grabbed the thermometer and took Sam's temperature.

"107°, shit!" Dean gasped. This was bad. If Sam's temperature reached 108°, his organs would begin shutting down. He had to bring Sam's temperature down, fast.

Thinking quickly, Dean rushed into the bathroom and began immediately filling the bathtub with cold water. While the water was flowing, he managed to drag his nonresponsive brother into the bathroom. He quickly stripped Sam of his clothes (Sam's modesty be damned!) and lowered him into the tub.

San thrashed weakly as his body was submerged and Dean ended up climbing in behind him, ignoring the icy cold water, and pulling his brother back against his chest to keep him still. Sam relaxed considerably in Dean's arms, but it only took a minute or two for him to begin trembling.

"D…Dean," Sam gasped, "S' cold."

"I know kiddo," Dean said, biting down to keep his own teeth from chattering.

"Hurts," Sam moaned.

"Just relax, I've got you," Dean murmured soothingly, "A few more minutes and I'll get you back into bed ok?"

Sam didn't answer, having slipped back into unconsciousness. Dean sighed and felt his brother's forehead. Though Sam's skin was still warm to the touch, it was considerably cooler than it had been. He remained in the bathtub until he was unable to feel his fingers and toes. Carefully, Dean pulled his brother out of the water and dried him off. He then laid Sam down on the closest bed and searched through his brother's duffle, pulling out a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Once he had Sam dressed, Dean pulled the covers back over him and sat down on the other side of the bed. Grabbing the thermometer from the table, Dean once again took Sam's temperature, pleased to see that it had dropped back down to 104°.

Keeping Sam in sight, Dean quickly stripped off his wet clothes and pulled on a dry pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He then settled back into his spot beside Sam on the bed, pulling the covers higher over Sam's body.

Sam shifted restlessly, sweat already beginning to break out across his brow, but he didn't wake. Dean turned on the TV and muted the volume so as to not disturb his brother. There was no way that he could move Sam when he was in this condition, so there was nothing left to do but wait for his fever to break.

About an hour of channel surfing later, Sam started mumbling and tossing in his sleep. Dean turned his attention from the TV back to his brother as the younger man whimpered incoherently, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Sam," Dean said softly, placing a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he recoiled from the touch, his breaths coming in frenzied pants.

"Sam, it's just me," Dean said, ignoring the hurt that he felt when Sam cringed away from him.

"He won't go away," Sam cried, "He's always here. Why won't he leave me alone, Dean? Why won't he leave?"

Dean's heart twisted as he took in how _young_ Sam looked. How vulnerable. Sam's hair was sticking up in odd places and his eyes were still glassy. His cheeks were aflame with fever and he was trembling furiously.

"Sam," Dean whispered, trying once again to reach out to his brother.

Sam whimpered and moved away, rambling deliriously, "Don't know what I did. Tried to be good, so good, all the time. Help people. Hunt evil things. But I can't. He knows. And now…now he won't leave. Know what he wants, can't give it to him. Can't betray Dean. Just gotta say no. Answer is no. No no no no no…"

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, trying to get through to his delirious brother. He was horrified by what he was hearing, and he knew without a doubt that Sam was talking about Lucifer. Tears began running down Sam's flushed cheeks, and Dean's stomach dropped at the sight. Deciding that enough was enough, Dean lunged forward and firmly wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him against his chest and burying his face in his hair.

Sam struggled weakly but when Dean started running a hand through his hair, he relaxed against his brother.

"I've got ya Sammy," Dean murmured soothingly, rocking his brother gently, "We're gonna get you all better, then we're gonna hit the road and put this all behind us ok? Fuck Heaven, fuck Hell, it's just gonna be me and you hunting the things that go bump in the night. Ok Sam?"

Sam didn't reply. Dean hadn't really expected him to.

He held his brother as he drifted in and out of consciousness for the next several hours until finally, _finally_ his fever broke. When Sam's temperature read a normal 98° Dean allowed himself to relax and he soon drifted off to sleep beside his brother

When Dean woke up, he was terrified to find that he was alone in the room. He sat up quickly, his heart hammering furiously in his chest until he heard the shower running in the bathroom. Sighing in relief, he stood up and stretched before beginning to pack up the few items he had taken out of his duffle. If Sam was feeling up to it, it was probably in their best interest to get moving.

Dean had just finished packing when Sam emerged from the bathroom, clad in a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Though he was still pale, he looked about one hundred times better than he had only mere hours earlier.

"Hey there Sammy," Dean said, smiling slightly, "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Sam said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he crossed the room to his own duffle, tucking his dirty clothes into it.

"Good enough to get back on the road?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I think so."

"Ok, how about this, we'll take it easy, and if you need to stop at any time, just tell me. I don't want you puking all over the Impala."

Sam actually smiled at this before nodding his agreement. As Dean slung his duffle over his shoulder and headed for the door so that he could load it into the Impala, Sam's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Hey…Dean?"

Dean turned, "Yeah?"

Sam swallowed and looked down at his feet, "Thanks."

Dean smiled, "No problem. Now get your ass moving, I wanna get out of here as soon as we can."

"So bossy."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean grinned like a maniac at this. Sure, he still wanted to beat Sam over the head with something heavy and blunt for being such a stubborn idiot, but he still loved his brother more than anything. The genuine smile that was slowly spreading across Sam's face made Dean's heart swell. They had their problems, (and wasn't _that_ the understatement of the century?) but he knew that, together, they would find a way to work it all out.

"Let's get going." He said, leading Sam out to the Impala.

In a matter of minutes, they were pulling out of the parking lot and turning on to the main road, heading for whatever decided to appear on the horizon. Dean glanced sideways at his brother, who was resting his head on the car window with his eyes closed, and couldn't keep back the smile that spread across his face.

Fuck Heaven, Fuck Hell. Dean would do everything in his power to get himself and his brother through this mess so that they could return to the days where they had nothing to worry about other than the hunt of the week.

It would take time, but they would pull through. And then they could start truly being brothers again.

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**A/N:**

Well, hope you liked it!

Again, if there's any kind of Hurt/Sam situation that you want to read, leave me a review with your prompt and I'll get to it as soon as I can!

Thanks for reading! :D


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